The Potter Twins
by kiaratheravenclaw
Summary: Delila Potter, unheard of twin sister of the famous Harry Potter, is coming to Hogwarts for her 6th year. What house will she be in? Will she and her brother get along? Or will she never forgive him for causing the death if Sirius? And what is Draco hiding? Can he keep it from either of the Potters? Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, don't own any of the HP universe.
1. The Other Potter

Delila Potter hugged her knees as she stared out the window, watching the scenery pass by.

Not long now, Del. Soon you'll finally be at Hogwarts... She thought, shifting to a better position.

She had grown up away from wizard kind, having been adopted by muggles when she was very young. Just a few years ago, her godfather, Sirius Black, had come and taken her away, and explained some things. He had been on the run from the Ministry, for a crime he didn't commit. That was how she had first heard about Harry Potter. Her brother. Her twin. Sirius had never let her meet him, and had been reluctant to even mention him. Just thinking about her godfather brought tears to her bright green eyes. She clenched them shut and curled up into a protective ball, her black hair falling around her in a protective curtain, until she felt that she wouldn't break out in sobs. He had died protecting Harry. Her godfather, the only family she had really had, murdered because Harry had to go to the Department of Mysteries and then the Order had come to fight the Death Eaters there. Had come to protect the Boy who Lived. And as a result her godfather had died.

She unwrapped her arms from her legs and let them touchdown on the floor. He was on this train. Her brother was on this train. And yet... she didn't want to meet him. He'd had everything she didn't. Fame. Friends. People wanting to protect him. A family. Why hadn't she?

"You're the Potter girl, aren't you?" A voice said, rousing Delila from her thoughts. "The name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. This here is Crabbe and Goyle," the boy said, pointing to the other two students that flanked him. "I wanted to introduce myself. Hope to deter you away from the wrong sort, unlike your brother who mingles with muggle borns and muggle lovers like that Granger girl and Weasley family."

Delila looked up. She narrowed her eyes. How did this boy know who she was? It wasn't like she was famous, like...like Harry Potter. Was she?  
"What makes you think he's my brother?" She said coldly, glaring daggers at the blond haired boy-Draco Malfoy. "I grew up distrusting everyone, and I don't see any reason to trust you." She spat, turning and looking out the window. She wasn't declining his friendship, but she wasn't accepting it. She was challenging it. Challenging him to prove to her that she should trust him. It took a lot to prove that to Delila. She took a deep breath and let it out again.

When she looked back out the compartment window, and into the one across from hers, she froze. Her eyes. Her eyes staring back at her from a boy with messy black hair and glasses. Harry Potter. She stiffened, and looked away, hoping he hadn't seen her. Odd. A year ago she would have been up and in his compartment before you could say pumpkin pastries. Funny how some things can change so quickly.

Draco let a faint smile of surprise pass across his lips for a moment as he looked down at Delila.  
"Oh, I know that he's your brother," the Slytherin stated, slipping into the compartment and sitting in the seat across from Delila. "You two look exactly alike and both share the Potter name. How could you not be brother and sister." He paused, seeming to think for a moment. "You don't trust me now but believe me when I say this; you will trust me sooner or later." Someone clearing their throat made Draco look up, straight into the face of Harry himself. Delila's twin looked irritated.

"Leave her alone, Malfoy," he said, not even looking over at Delila for a moment. Draco gave an irritating smirk. He stood up, now practically nose to nose with Harry.  
"What're you going to do about it?" He taunted, earning a harsh glare from the other boy.  
"I'll make you leave," Harry threatened, still not looking over. He could feel everyone around them staring at the two.

Delila looked at the person at the door through her eyelashes. Harry Potter. The famous, self-sacrificing, loved-by-almost-everyone Harry Potter. And now he was fighting her battles for her. She was silent, watching the two boys argue. Then a flash.

Her foster parents giving her up to Sirius Black willingly, happily. Him giving her her wand as a birthday present. Showing her the hand movements for a particularly difficult spell. Her picking up a copy of the daily prophet, and seeing her brother. Riding Buckbeak. Telling her godfather she wanted to join the Order, and him refusing to let her. Her peeking out of a room in 12 Grimauld Place, hoping to catch a glimpse of her long-lost brother but seeing nothing, just 2 girls; one with frizzy brown hair, and another with red hair, and freckles. The night Sirius didn't come home. The visions stopped abruptly, and she was back to reality. It had only lasted a moment, but enough to reignite her anger and jealousy of her twin.

She stood up, locks of black hair falling in front of her face.  
"I don't need someone to fight my battles." She said, dangerously calm. She pulled her wand out and flicked it, then stormed out the door, the suitcases floating after her.

Delila found another empty compartment at the other end of the train, and placed her stuff on the luggage rail. Her white ferret, Snowball, squeaked in his cage.  
"Sorry Snowball, forgot all about you." She said quietly, unlocking the cage with a flick of her wand. The ferret scurried out and up her arm, coming to rest in her shoulder. She grinned and put her wand in her pocket. As she sat down, she saw that Draco had followed her.  
"What do you want?" She glared.

Draco leaned against the frame of the compartment door. He hadn't noticed the ferret Delila had and answered her after a moment. "I decided that even if you don't trust me, I'm going to stick around," he stated, smirking slightly.

Then Delila grinned, remembering something Sirius had told her. "I heard you like ferrets." She smirked, holding her arm out and letting the ferret crawl down it and sniff in Draco's direction. "Heard you had a little, ah, incident a few years back."

The smirk vanished when the Slytherin saw the ferret. "That bloody professor, Mad Eye Moody, turned me into one of those things," he muttered angrily. Straightening up, Draco stepped into the compartment, keeping his eye on the ferret as he shut the door and sat back in the seat, looking across at Delila with a faint air of amusement.

Delila smiled as Snowball ran up her arm and onto her head, Draco watching it with interest. Her smile quickly turned into a frown. Malfoy...wasn't that a last name of one of the Death Eaters that were at the Ministry? Now she remembered. This boy's father was one of the reasons her godfather had died. She opened the compartment door, angrily.

"Out." She ordered, pointing out the door. She didn't want to be anywhere near anyone who had anything to do with that, or anyone related to them. "Out, now." She said, tears forming involuntarily in her eyes. She blinked them back, and turned to face the window. Snowball jumped off her head and into her arms, where she hugged him tightly.

I don't know why I decided to come to Hogwarts in the first place, she thought bitterly. Yes, she was grateful for Dumbledore's offer, and yes she had accepted it. Now she questioned whether she should have. All that was here so far was painful memories. A tear rolled down her nose.

"What is it?" The boy asked quietly.

Delila sniffed, trying to blink the tears away, but failing. Snowball nuzzled up against her. She stiffened when Malfoy asked her what was wrong. "I told you to get out!" She said, fiercely, close to yelling. She wiped the tears from her eyes and pushed him through the compartment door as her ferret ran down her arm and hissed, bearing his fangs as his fur stood on end, clearly conveying his feelings. They weren't happy.

Right before the ferret launched himself at Draco's face, Delila shoved the blond-haired boy out and into the aisle of the train, slamming the compartment door shut behind her, then sliding to the ground and curling up into a ball, shaking slightly, trying to push all her thoughts to one side so she didn't have to think. What had she been thinking, coming here?

Delila took a moment to regain her composure, and looked out the window. It was getting darker, which meant they were get closer. Yay. She sat down, hoping her eyes weren't red. If she walked in there with red puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks she would look like an idiot for sure. She wondered if her brother had worried about looking like an idiot when he first came. She doubted it, what with his fame and all. At least there was one person at Hogwarts she could trust; Dumbledore. She didn't know why she trusted him. She just did.

She looked down at her watch. Nearly time. She should probably put her robes on. She put a now perfectly calm Snowball in his cage, then pulled one of her suitcases down, not bothering to use magic. After rummaging around a bit, she found her robes and grabbed them, before shutting the suitcase and putting it back up on the rail above her head. She looked out the window again, some of her old, childish excitement welling up. She pushed it down. That wasn't who she was anymore. She was different. She'd grown up. She turned and stiffened, seeing her brother.

Delila twisted the robes in her hands. What was he doing here? Why was he looking at her like that? It was strange, seeing her own features on someone else's face, especially her eyes. Her mothers eyes. Sirius had said that there was no colour quite the same shade. She was glad that she had gotten her mothers eyes. Was that why her brother was looking at her like that? Was he thinking the same things? No, she probably just looked like she'd been crying. Stupid of her to let her emotions get the better of her. She was about to ask why he was here, when he stepped in front of her and said "Hey, Delila." She flinched slightly, did everyone know her name? "Hello." She replied, before the silence got too awkward. She looked at her feet, feeling awkward. She looked up when Harry spoke next. "How are you doing?" Harry questioned, clearly feeling as awkward as his sister.

Delila could think of a number of answers. Well, my godfather is dead, my brother is the cause of his death, every time I stop and look around, I'm reminded of that, my brother was the only one who people know or care about out of the two of us, I can't spend a moment alone, and I need to get changed, so not too good, thank you very much. But she didn't want to say that. That would be telling him almost everything about herself, and she barely knew him. "Okay." She said instead, quietly. She sat back down on the seat, and looked out the window. The scenery was nice, exactly as Sirius had described it. Her hands shook slightly at that thought.

"This is about Sirius," Harry said softly, finally realizing what could have made Delila act the way she had.

Delila was silent. Of course it was about Sirius, among other things. She tried not to look at Harry, her brother. Her twin. "I saw it happen. Through a seeing glass we found at 12 Grimauld Place. I saw all of it." She said, quietly, her voice hard. She looked at Harry, her eyes burning, as he took her hands, which she hadn't even noticed were shaking.

"I'm sorry, Delila. I know it must have been hard for you," he murmured gently.

"No, you don't. You don't understand. You have everything! Friends, fame, you're allowed to _talk_ to people! You don't have to worry about who to trust, or what to do to make sure you're not recognised. It was you who Dumbledore made special arrangements for. I was just sent off to some dump called Wool's Orphanage. Everyone forgot about me, and when I was adopted, it wasn't because the parents liked me, it was because their daughter wanted a playmate. Like I was a pet. Just another toy. Sirius found me. He told me about the Wizarding World, but I couldn't be part of it. He told me about _you_ but I couldn't meet you. Even when you came to 12 Grimauld Place I wasn't allowed out of my room to see you. Do you really know how hard it was for me? To know that I had family that I wasn't even allowed to say hello to? Sirius was the only part of the Wizarding World I had. He was like a father to me. You don't understand. You will _never_ understand." She pulled her hands from his grip and stood up, storming to the bathrooms to change.

Delila leaned her forehead against the wall in her stall for a moment to calm herself down. It was covered with graffiti, like so-and-so loves so-and-so, and this person was here this year and stuff like that.

When she was sure she wouldn't snap at anyone that tried to talk to her, she got changed quickly and walked back to her compartment slowly. She couldn't help glancing in Malfoy's compartment, which had two other dumb-looking boys in it as well. She couldn't remember their names. She sped up when she was going past her brothers compartment, but watched it out of the corner of her eye. She reached her compartment and slipped inside, shutting the door behind her. Snowball squeaked, and she petted his head as she sat down.

After a few minutes the train stopped, and everyone started getting off. Delila waited a bit for the crowd to die down, before climbing off. She smiled slightly when she saw the Thestral's, they were something familiar, not that she was particularly happy about why she could see them. She patted ones head before hopping in it's carriage. She took out a book and started reading, hoping that no one else would join her.

After a moment, the door to her carriage opened and Draco Malfoy entered. He watched her for a moment, not saying anything. Delila glanced up and glared when he sat down across from her.

Can't some people take a hint? Or at least couldn't this person take a hint. She studied him for a moment, green eyes blazing, then started reading her book again, trying her best to ignore him. At least Harry had tried to be nice. All this boy did was annoy her. She didn't look up when he spoke.

"How is the book?" He asked, looking over her as if searching for some kind of flaw or beautiful detail. Maybe he was looking for both.

"If you even think about annoying me, Malfoy, I will shove you out of this carriage, yes, I'm aware it's moving, and set my ferret on you. Got it?" She said, ignoring his question as she stuck her bookmark in her page and snapped the book shut with a dull thud. She put it back in her pocket; it was small enough to fit inside. Only then did she look up at him. He smiled slightly at her response.

She wasn't sure how she felt. His father played a part in her godfathers death. His father was a death eater. What if he was too? Her eyes drifted to his wrist, which was covered by his robe. That was where the Dark Mark would be. She was tempted for a moment to grab his wrist and pull up the sleeve, but resisted. That would just be awkward if it wasn't there, and if it was...

What are you doing, Delila? Have you changed so much that begin to suspect school kids of being Death Eaters? What's wrong with you? she scolded herself, pulling her eyes away, and looking out the window.

"Is there a particular reason you seem to be looking for something on my arm?" Draco asked, raising one pals eyebrow with a slightly smug expression.

"Yes." Delila replied, feeling no reason to explain. She stared at the scenery, let the slience stretch out. She was about to take her book out again when Malfoy asked her what house she wanted to be in.

"What house are you hoping for, I must ask," he said, turning the smug look into a smile. "Gryffindor, I'd think, considering it's the house your brother is in. Though, I wouldn't be surprised if you got Ravenclaw. You seem to be quite smart, really. Even Hufflepuff, maybe. A bit doubtful on that side of the results though." Draco paused, looking at Delila, waiting for her response. He hadn't mentioned Slytherin, correctly guessing that that was the house she wanted to hear about least of all, let alone be sorted into it. Nobody wanted Slytherin, except for those pureblooded wizarding families that were rather cunning.

She honestly wasn't sure which she wanted. She didn't feel fit for any. She didn't consider herself brave nor smart, loyal or cunning. She stiffened when the blond haired boy across from her said she would most likely be in Gryffindor, because of her brother.

"I am not my brother." She said coldly. "If you're done with your evaluation, I don't really care what house I'm in, except maybe Slytherin. I never, ever want to be in that house. I suppose you don't have to be a Ravenclaw to figure out why." She added, looking him in the eyes. They were an odd grey. She didn't know you could get that eye colour. She turned and looked out the window for a moment, but she couldn't keep her mind from drifting.

It was quite a warm night, so why was this boy covering up his arms? Did he have some sort of skin disease? She snorted to herself; there were spells for skin disease. She turned back to him.

"Give me your arm. Your right arm." She half ordered, half asked, holding her hand out. She glared at him. "Now."

Draco clearly didn't have a choice on the matter, that much was obvious. He stared at Delila for a moment, as if knowing what would come if he did give her his arm. He stayed silent, not doing anything for a long moment, looking down at his robes, his covered arms.

Eventually, Draco looked back up at Delila and without speaking, thrust out his right arm, staring her in the face the whole time, waiting for her reaction, waiting for distrust to grow.

"Here. Look at it all you want," he replied quietly. "Go ahead."

She took his arm and hesitated a moment. His voice was hard, unlike anyway he had spoken to her before, considering his rivalry with her brother. Her fingers curled around the fabric and pulled it back.

Delila flinched slightly at what she saw. A black skull with a snake twisting out of it. A dark mark. She had been right. Her expression was blank, but her eyes held many different emotions. Satisfaction, surprise, anger, sadness, distrust. But there was no fear. She shoved his arm away like it was poisonous, not sure what else to do. She stared at him for a moment, shaking her head slightly.

"Why? Why would you do that? Are you crazy? Joining Voldemort?!" She demanded. "And yeah, I dare speak his name. Get over it." She added. Every time someone who wasn't a Death Eater said Voldemort, Death Eaters were all gasping and saying 'You dare speak his name?' dramatically. It was a bit annoying, really.

She turned and stared out the window, subconsciously wiping her hand on her robes. She realised she was doing it and made herself stop. Her fist clenched, but other than that she kept her emotions in check.

Draco pulled his arm back, pulling the sleeve down over his arm roughly, not looking at Delila as she spoke.

"Say his name all you want," he muttered coldly. "Like I care. You think I wanted this, Delila?" He asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. A cold, hard whisper. "Maybe I wanted it at first, to join my parents and have a chance at the glory they seemed to have. Well, you know what? I was wrong. It's not glorious. Not even praising. It's horrible. This mark on my arm. People looking at me with the same look you've got now. That look like I'm suddenly going to whip out my wand and blast curses in every direction." His voice was shaking and he was trying to keep it level, failing at the attempts. "So go ahead, say Voldemort's name all you want. Say Tom Riddle for all I care. You don't trust me, you never did and you sure as bloody hell won't now. Why do you think I keep the sleeves of my robes down? To hide that mark from prying eyes. And now you've gone and found it anyway. I hope you're happy. I know I am." He finished on a bitter note, glaring out the window like he could set the whole grounds on fire with just his look.

Underneath the glare, the Potter girl could see there was part of him that was vulnerable, vulnerable and already having gave up.

Delila hesitated before answering, looking down at her hands. When she looked up, her voice was cold and firm, with a hint of pity. But not much.

"Your father lead a group of Death Eaters to take some stupid prophecy and kill my brothers friends, maybe even my brother, I don't know." She resisted the urge to say that he should know. That would be just cruel.

"The Order went to protect them. Sirius promised he'd be fine." Her voice lost the pity, and she looked him in the eyes. The pity was replaced by anger. "He lied. He was murdered by his own cousin. Your mothers sister. Your aunt. They've murdered plenty of muggles and wizards alike. They will continue to do so. How is there any glory at all in that, Malfoy? How is that praising? What kind of sick, deranged mind would think that? Your family murdered the only part of the damn wizarding world I had, so forgive me if I goddam distrust you! Trust is hard for me to give anyone. If you can make me trust you now, after I know you followed your parents willingly, even if it was only at first, then I will be very surprised. I hope to god I'm not in Slytherin so I don't have to wonder who else at Hogwarts decided to get a bloody Dark Mark tattooed on their arm."

She stood, and opened the door, hanging onto the side, and climbed around to the front. She didn't want to look at him. She sat down on a ledge and looked around. She caught a flash of her brother as the carriage past her, and ripped her eyes away. She closed them, letting the wind tousle her hair as the castle drew closer.


	2. The Sorting

When the carriage stopped, Delila jumped off, landing nimbly on her feet and stormed towards the castle, not looking back. She fixed up her hair as she walked with the first years, along with what looked like a third year and a fifth year, who were also new.

She stared off into space as a stern looking lady with a bun explained the sorting ceremony. Professor Mcgonagall, her name was, and her eyes seemed to linger on Delila, who stubbornly stared at the wall.

Soon, they were led into the great hall, and the young Potter twin wished she wasn't so tall. She stuck out, and all eyes seemed to be on her. A hat sat on a stool and started singing. She didn't really listen; she was busy scanning the Gryffindor table. She saw her brother sitting with a boy with red hair and a girl with bushy brown hair. She smiled slightly, and looked away. Maybe being with her brother wouldn't be so bad. As long as she didn't have to share a common room with Malfoy. She looked up at McGonagall, who was explaining that there were new students in years one, three, five and six. Unfortunately, she started at six. There was only one; Delila Potter.

"Potter, Delila." The slight murmurs died down, and everyone was watching her as she stepped up and sat on the stool, and the hat was placed on her head. She closed her eyes.

_Another Potter, eh?_ the sorting hat said, sounding- if it were possible- slightly surprised. _I've sorted your brother, father and mother, along with every Potter before that. Most were in Gryffindor, but there's something different about you... You have a fierce temper, yes, and sense of knowledge in your brain. You are loyal, though picky about who you're loyal to. You also have a commanding spirit, full of determination. You'll make a great leader, much like your brother_-Delila stiffened at the mention of Harry-_but he was much easier to sort. Now, where to put you... There is a sly part of you that knows how to use **certain** information to your advantage. I think you belong in... "_SLYTHERIN."

Delila froze, along with all of the Great Hall. No one clapped, just stared at her in silence. No. No, it couldn't be right. Why of all houses Slytherin, it didn't make sense! But yet, she reluctantly allowed Professor McGonagall lead her over to the Slytherin table and sat down at the end, as far away from people as she could manage. She stared down at the table top, refusing to look up whenever someone greeted her. Surely it couldn't be right! What would Sirius think? Dumbledore? Her parents? Her brother, even? She must be the first Potter in Slytherin for generations! Now she had to see Malfoy everyday, and that would make it even harder to keep his secret a, well, secret. She'd decided that she wouldn't tell anyone. Yet.

By the time the Sorting Ceremony had finished, she had calmed herself down a bit. The chatter in the Great Hall rose as the food appeared, but Delila wasn't hungry anymore. She picked at a piece of chicken for a bit before pushing it aside and taking out her book. She sat there reading for a while, trying to push everything aside but it didn't work. Maybe she could talk to Dumbledore, and ask for a re-sort. But what if the sorting hat put her in Slytherin again? She didn't even know if you were allowed a re-sort! She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and looked up, scanning the room. Her eyes skimmed over her brother, and the Gryffindor table and she wished that she had gotten that. They all looked so...well...not Slytherin.

Delila looked up as someone stood up and left the table. Her face hardened when she saw who. Draco Malfoy. God, what had she gotten herself into? Why couldn't she have just kicked him out of the carriage when he first set foot inside? Or better yet, not let him inside at all?

When the feast was over, the prefect-well, the prefect that was left since apparently Malfoy was one as well. Great. The prefect led them to the Slytherin common room, which was in the dungeons. Everyone stopped in front of a wall, where the prefect, who's name was Pansy Parkinson, said the password.

"Patronus." The wall slid away revealing a dungeon-like room, with greenish lamps and chairs. The whole room was cast with an eerie greenish glow. It was under the lake, Delila assumed. "Girls on the right, boys on the left. Now hurry up, I want to go to sleep." Pansy said in a bored voice, before trudging up the stairs. She stopped halfway and pointed at Delila. "You, come with me. You're in the sixth year dormitories." She ordered, and Delila hurried after her. The room was greenish as well, and the beds were dark wood with green and silver covers and drapes that blocked the beds from view.

"You're there. And by the way, Draco is mine so don't even think about going near him, Potter." Pansy gestured to a bed next to the wall, and then flopped onto her bed and went to sleep. The others were already in bed. Delila frowned; she couldn't sleep here. She knew it without trying. At least, she couldn't sleep here yet. With another quick glance, she trudged downstairs and sat on an arm chair, not sure what to do.

Delila didn't look away from the fire when Draco came in.

"I forgot you were here, Potter," he said, finally noticing she was there, his voice losing any kind of pleasantness he'd used before. "What's wrong? To afraid to sleep in your bed tonight?" He asked, fair eyebrows raising, keeping the actual curiousity out of his voice.

"Yeah. There's this Death Eater called Draco Malfoy who'll probably murder me in my sleep if his girlfriend doesn't get to it first." She shot back icily. She ran her hand through her hair, looking quite like her father. Sirius had always said that. He also said that she got most of Lily's features, while Harry got James'. She clung to that memory for a moment, a slight smile touching her lips, before letting it go. The smile left, and she stared down at her hands.

Draco Malfoy was one of the last people she wanted to talk to, not that her opinion seemed to matter, really. He bugged her no matter what she did. She thought of his reaction to Snowball, and smirked. At least she had one thing that would get him away from her.

He looked at Delila before sighing, his gaze softening, just slightly. "I figured you might be nervous-"

"I'm not nervous. Upset, yeah. Wishing I wasn't Slytherin, yeah. But not nervous." She cut in.

"I also couldn't help but notice you hadn't eaten much." He continued. He fell silent for a moment before pulling something out of a pocket in his robes. He tore it, tossing a chunk of bread towards Delila. "Catch."

She glanced at him, and instinctively caught the object flying towards her. Her gaze returned to the fire. "I'm not hungry." She said, putting the bread on the arm of the chair. She looked over at him again. The fire cast shadows across his face, making it seem older. Her eyes drifted to his arm, and she looked away in distaste. Anyone who was sick enough to join Voldemort was not someone she wanted to hang out with. She stood up, and walked to the exit.

After another glance at Draco, she said "I'm not going to tell anyone yet, but I can and will if you push me. Remember that, Malfoy." She flung her hair over her shoulders and marched out, not bothering to look behind her at his expression.

Delila leaned against the wall, losing her 'get out of my face Death Eater scum' demeanour, replacing it with one that looked tired and stressed and everything a girl starting her 6th year of Hogwarts shouldn't look. She took a deep breath and glanced around, then hurried through the castle, not sure where she was going. She just needed some breathing space, some time to think. She trailed her hand along the wall absently. Had Sirius walked this corridor late at night with James and Remus? Probably. In fact, he'd probably seen every single place in the castle. He had always described it with wonder, with awe. Always said how he was going to send her their, one day.

"I'm here Sirius, just like you wanted." She whispered to the darkness, her hand slipping from the wall to hang limp at her side. She could feel the tears welling up and walked faster, hoping that maybe, maybe if she moved fast enough she wouldn't have to think. She was walking so fast she almost crashed into the giant griffin statue that she knew led to Dumbledore's office. She stared at it, unsure why her feet had led her here. She glanced behind her then back at the griffin. She made her choice.

"I need to see Professor Dumbledore."


	3. Chapter 3

The griffin seemed to regard Delila for a moment then it started to turn, revealing stone steps that rotated with it. They continued upward, the stone wall passing slowly by with the faint sound of grinding stone. This was just one of the multiple forms of magic at work in Hogwarts. Not to mention the paintings, staircases, and all of the school's inhabitants.

Delila walked slowly up the stone steps, slightly surprised the griffon had let her through. Then again, Dumbledore probably knew she was going to come eventually. She reached the top of the stairs and pushed open the wooden door.

The door opened up into Dumbledore's office, where a fire was crackling, sending a warm glow into the room. Professor Dumbledore sat at his desk, glasses perched on his nose and him examining a book.

When Delila entered, he set the book down, opening up a drawer on his desk and lying it inside. The cover was dark and there was the outline of a hole on it. He looked up at her, his blue eyes regarding her as if he'd expected Delila sooner or later.

Delila recognised the book as Tom Riddle's diary. Voldemort's diary. Thanks to Sirius she knew all about Harry's heroics and almost-getting-killed routine. It was like he wanted to die. And he'd stabbed that in...what? His third year? No, his second. She wondered if she'd have been able to do that. Not that she would ever get a chance. Delila was roused from her thoughts by Dumbledore's voice.

"Ah, Miss Potter," he said, taking of his spectacles and placing them on the wood of his desk gently. "To what do I owe this visit?" He questioned.

"I think you already know the answer to the question." She replied, bitterly, as she crossed her arms and leaned on the doorframe. There was a silence, and she stared at the floor, not wanting to meet his eyes. "Tell me about Sirius. And Harry. And everything. Tell me about everything." She said, finally meeting his eyes. "Tell me the truth." She said, unable to keep the desperation out of her voice. She had to know where he stood in all of this, what he thought and why he thought it. She needed to know why. Why Harry was the favourite. Why she had been shoved to the side. Why she was already thirteen when she finally met Sirius, found out about the Wizarding World. About her parents.

Dumbledore stayed silent for a moment, looking at Delila's expression. Finally, he started to answer.

"Sirius Black was a good man, always protecting you and Harry, even if he wasn't there at the time," he said. "He gave up his life to save Harry, as I'm sure you know. And he would be here with us tonight if that hadn't happened. You're parents were two of our best students. You could walk into the common room and see Lily studying a week before a test, her nose buried in her book," he said, speaking of them in a tone that suggested how fond he had been of them. "Your father, James, was a lot like Harry. He made trouble, yes, but he was also one of the best keepers and Head Boys this school has had.

"When they were killed, and you and Harry survived, we had to keep you separate. It wouldn't be safe to keep you together. I know it wasn't fair either, but we did what we had to to keep you both safe. The Dark Lord might not have been strong then, but if he knew about you too, then there's no telling what he might have done when he did return."

Delila took a deep breath and let it out again, pushing her emotions to the back of her mind. It was obvious that he had known her parents, and Sirius, and Harry. Maybe he would've known her too, if he hadn't insisted on keeping her 'safe'. Stuff safe, what about a family? A home? What about knowing why she was an orphan, or even her parents names?

She let her arms drop, and ran a hand through her hair, her eyes on the carpet. She walked forwards and set herself slowly, almost cautiously, into the chair opposite Dumbledore, looking up and into his blue eyes, feeling as if he was seeing right through her, like an x-ray.

"How do you know he doesn't know about me? On the train, I didn't even talk to people and they knew I was a Potter. Why did you think that keeping us apart would change anything? And if that's your reasoning, then why am I here, at Hogwarts? I could be at home, at 12 Grimauld Place with Kreacher and not have to worry about any of this." She asked, quietly.

"You resemble Harry, so much it would be uncanny if you weren't related. If I kept you apart, there was less risk of something happening to both of you. I brought you here, though, because you have the potential to be a powerful witch, like your brother is a powerful wizard. With the right teachings, which Hogwarts can supply, it is possible that you would gain enough power to be able to help Harry fight in his battle with the Dark Lord.

"There is another reason. I suspect that 12 Grimauld Place will not be safe for much longer," the professor stated. "I cannot say why, but I thought it would be safer for you to start attending Hogwarts and to hone in your magical abilities. I do have reasons for my actions, Miss Potter."

"If I have the potential to be a powerful witch, then why not bring me here when I was 11, like Harry? Why did you leave me in that dump of an orphanage, until some stupid rich snobby kid decided she wanted a sister? An then deciding she didn't like me anymore, but the parents not being able to take me back because the damn orphanage had been demolished." Delila put her forehead in her hands, not bothering to move the bangs that fell in front of her eyes.

"Why did you leave me there and send Harry off to the Dursley's?" She asked, not looking up. She knew, somewhere in a dark corner of her mind, that she was in fact hungry, and exhausted and stressed and just plain annoyed. Annoyed at Dumbledore for not answering her questions properly, annoyed at Harry for being so perfect, annoyed at Malfoy for thinking being a Death Eater was cool, annoyed at the Sorting Hat for putting her in Slytherin, not even taking what she wanted into consideration, annoyed at Sirius for going off and dying. Just annoyed at the world in general.

"Delila," Dumbledore said gently. "Would you really have been happy living with the Dursley's? Your brother was not treated like family there, who's to say you would have been?" He questioned. "I thought I was making the right decision by putting you in that orphanage, maybe I was wrong, and if I was then you have every right to be angry, I'm not taking that away. But I want you to know that everything I have done has been in your best interest, wanting to make sure you were safe, keeping you away from your brother for so long. Yes, you could say it was cruel, in a way it was, but it kept you safe for your entire life." He fell silent for a moment, wanting the girl in front of him to understand that everything he tried to do, was for her and her brother.

"I'm sorry if what I chose to do made your life harder but I truly thought I was protecting you, Delila. If that isn't the case, then I apologize again, for making the mistake of keeping you and your brother apart for so long. Maybe I should have brought you here sooner, but I didn't. However, you're here now, and we should focus on that instead of what has happened in the past. Do you see what I'm trying to say?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yeah, I do." Delila said, looking up and meeting Dumbledore's eyes for a moment. She wished that she didn't, but she did. And she hated herself for it. She decided not to voice her thoughts, not to get angry at him, at least for now, and just leave. Leave before she collapsed into a million pieces. Before she lost control and did something she'd regret. She stood, turned and walked out the door, down the stairs and back through the corridor. She didn't look back.

A few minutes later, she had bypassed the Slytherin common-room and was heading up the steps to one of the towers. The Astronomy tower, to be exact. She climbed several flights, choosing not to use any if the secret passageways. When she reached the top, she took a deep breath of night air. It smelt of parchment and grass and home. It smelt of home. She sighed and looked down, gripping the railing.

She closed her eyes, letting the wind wash over her like water, wishing it would blow away all her worries, all her regrets, leaving her the happy, carefree girl she once was. She opened her eyes. No, that was never going to happen. That girl was long gone, replaced with the mess that was Delila Potter, twin sister of the famous Harry Potter. She gripped the railing tighter.

Of course, Draco didn't know how upset Delila was. He'd woken up sometime during her talk with Dumbledore and he'd seen her passing the common-room. He'd followed after her quietly, a little bit concerned that something was going on that he did know about. Maybe he was concerned about her. Either way, he'd followed after Delila and when she went up into the Astronomy tower, so did he.

He stayed silent as she'd stood by the window, her knuckles pale from how tight she was gripping the railing. It didn't take him long to know what she was thinking about. Draco still stayed silent as he walked to stand beside her, half-hoping that she wouldn't become angry with him for being there. "Are you all right?" He finally asked, breaking the silence. "You look upset. Did I do something, or was it someone else this time?"

Delila stiffened. Why couldn't he just leave her alone? Can't boys ever take a hint? Usually if people don't invite you to come with them, they want to be alone. Well, apparently not according to this boy, but everyone else.

Draco took a half-step away from her, still watching her face to see her expression.

"Why are you here? Can't you just, I dunno, let me be alone for a moment?" She said, angrily, not looking over.

He frowned, finally realising how weary she sounded underneath the angry voice, tired, like she couldn't handle any pressure and if she was forced to hold it, she would crack. "I ca-" He tried to start, but she was talking again.

"No, I'm not okay, and I will shove you over the edge if you make one wrong move so just...just don't, okay?" She said, tiredly. She turned away and stared off at the Forbidden Forest, her grip on the railing loosening.

"I didn't come to mess with you, Delila," he said quietly, as if he didn't want to disturb the otherwise silence of the Astronomy tower. "I saw you passing the common-room, in the middle of the night, and I wanted to check and make sure everything was okay." He fell silent, looking at her, waiting for her next reply.

She tucked her hair behind her ear and walked away from the Slytherin boy, hand trailing the bar.

She just wanted to be alone. Was that too much to ask? Did her opinion even matter anymore? Apparently not, according to Dumbledore and Draco Malfoy. She felt like screaming and punching something and crying all at the same time. She wondered what it would be like to just have a normal life, without any of this. For the first time, Delila wished that she was a muggle, an ignorant, carefree muggle so she didn't have to deal with this. It was just...just too much.

"Let me ask you something. Why do you feel the need to be involved with everything, and know about everyone, Malfoy?" She asked, bitterly.

"Because I think it's my place to know as much as I can about people and the Wizarding World," Draco answered, still watching Delila.

Delila turned to face Draco, her hand still on the railing.

"Why is that? Is it because you're a Death Eater? Is that it? Are you spying for Voldemort? Telling him what's happening here, at Hogwarts? One of the few safe havens left in the Wizarding World?" She asked, accusing. If looks could kill, then Filch would have a very messy pool of blood to clean up in the morning.

Delila turned back to the forest, anger simmering behind her eyes. Luckily for Draco, she had some self control, at least. She usually didn't take her anger out on people, only her pillow. And the wall. And the door. And maybe smashing up a plate or two here or there. She gripped the railing again, and peered down, thrilling at the adrenaline of being so high up. Her eyes felt droopy, and tired, but she wasn't going to bed just yet. Out of the corner of her eyes, she watched Draco, making sure he didn't move towards her.

After a moment, she turned away from the railing, and headed to the door, running a hand through her windswept hair, and looking down at the muggle watch on her wrist. 12:04. It was late. Very late. And if she wanted to do well, then she would have to get some sleep. She paused at the door, and looked over her shoulder for a moment, then pulled it open and hurried to the common-room.


End file.
